


Dance Macabre

by Freakshow_Ghuleh



Category: Avatar (Sweden Band), Ghost (Sweden Band), Priest (Sweden Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassination Plot(s), Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dom/sub, Gay Sex, Jekyll and Hyde, Johannes has a split personality, M/M, Papa III is a vengeful bitch., Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Revenge Sex, Rough Sex, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freakshow_Ghuleh/pseuds/Freakshow_Ghuleh
Summary: This was my first plotty metal smut piece written over a year ago. It is currently a prequel of sorts to my Prequelle-era crossover, 'You've Come to the Wrong Forest'....Summary: This was written in lieu of the Meliora-era Ghoul debacle last year. Set in an alternate universe where Papa has sworn vengeance against the Puppet Master & Alpha, the Anti-Pope employs The Clown as his personal bodyguard. Unbeknownst to the ghouls and Sister Imperator, the pope and his new charge have some history together…





	Dance Macabre

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All created for the sake of fiction and inspired by the dark aesthetic of Ghost and Avatar. Feedback and story prompts for my current AvaGhost work are welcome!

Dance Macabre

* * * *

The man knelt at the foot of the throne, head bowed in reverance before his Master. The cathedral was solemn after the scene of violence that had just occurred:

Blood dripped from the Clown’s long fingers, the only sound echoing in the candlelit chamber as each drop hit the stone floor. The inky hair that hung over his broad shoulders was spattered with viscera from the kill, and a wide, cheshire smile played on his painted black lips. His icy blue eyes lifted to the calm, skeletal face of The Anti-Pope.

Papa Emeritus III purred in approval, elegantly raising a gloved hand, two gold-clawed fingers beckoning the two shaken Sisters of Sin to remove the body from his sight. The highest ranking member in his Clergy had committed a great act of treason, and Emeritus had then enlisted a hired hand to take care of the situation.

“You have done well, my child…” Emeritus spoke softly and yet his voice resonated through the chapel, his piercing gaze moving from the lanky figure drenched in gore to the polished, silver mask that lay just a meter from its decapitated owner, dark crimson pooling around it.

The Anti-Pope stood from his seat, the silken layers of his black and purple vestments shuffling in the silence as he moved to stand in front of the clown. He lifted a hand, and the creature stood as well, now towering over his Master with an eerily placid expression on his sharp features.

Emeritus tilted his head to the side, casually brushing the the mane of soiled, black hair away from the Clown’s face, completely unfazed by the fact that the madman had just torn the head off of one of his former associates with his bare hands.

Curiously, Emeritus gripped the back of his mercenary’s head and pulled his face down to his level, tongue darting out to taste the Ghoul’s blood smeared on the man’s sharp jaw. He sighed, closing his eyes as the larger man leaned into his touch. “I have missed you, Johannes.”

The fearsome monster he had created still looked no different to the strange boy he’d found wandering the streets of Gothenburg years before. A gentle face hid beneath the paint and blood smeared across his face, a gash of black forcing his frowning lips into a perpetual grin.

Madness and delirium had been Papa’s gift to him.

“The debt has been repayed…” Johannes spoke finally, his voice a deep growl. There was something else in his voice, a great sadness.

“Not yet, but you will be rewarded in time… ” Emeritus replied, stroking Johannes’ cheek, who did not respond, simply leaning into his Master’s touch as if it were all he had. The Pope’s silvery eye glanced to the two Sisters watching them anxiously.

“Sisters, I thank you for your assistance…” The two young women broke from their reverie and hurriedly went back to their grisly task of disposing the body in a shallow grave far away from Papa’s church.

“Now… ” He chuckled, turning his attention back to the frightening looking man peering down at him silently. “Wait for me in my chambers, –” He withdrew his hand, wrinkling his nose at the stench of death in the room.

“There is fresh clothing and food waiting. But first, wash that fucking filth off of you…”

* * * *

Papa Emeritus III’s composure was fading. He could feel the rage coursing through his veins, his body trembling as he ascended the spiraling staircase leading towards his private quarters. His thoughts were muddled by the ever-growing security threat that hovered ominously over his head, threatening to destroy his empire and the new clergy.

_~ ~ ~_

_The Puppet Master’s flickering red eye shone dimly through the shroud of the Pope’s turbulent thoughts, the blackened lips of a corpse twisting into a perverse sneer beneath the cracked leather mouth of the spiked fetish mask he wore. He could hear the rumble of contentious laughter, crashing like thunder down his spine._

_~ ~ ~_

Papa stepped through the wide doors of his chambers– a vast room draped in fine silks and tapestries, richly adorned by rare artifacts, (mainly from his conquests in overturning the Church.) The room was warmly lit by the many sconces perched along the stone walls, the sweet-musky scent of incense drifting lazily through the air. He had changed from his heavy robes and mitre, now clad in a lightweight black suit with a silver Grucifix stitched into the left breast of his jacket.

Nervously running a hand through his slicked, raven hair, The Skeleton Pope crossed the room to the far wall, where a ceiling-length stained glass window depicting a vibrant Baphomet was flanked by two Mohagony bookcases. A banquet had been prepared for his guest as thanks for his acceptance of the position as Head of Security. However, Papa noticed with some amusement, that despite the rare wine, fine meats and other decadence, the only item missing from the table was the large bowl of fruit that Papa requested as an afterthought.

Draped across a sofa that wasn’t quite long enough for him, his spindly legs dangling over the arm, Johannes reclined with a thick book in his large hands, pale blue eyes scanning the text at a rapid rate. Emeritus was mildly taken aback, as the man before him looked completely different from the cackling, painted psychopath that had executed a Ghoul in his chapel earlier that night.

Johannes’ raven black hair was clean of gore and draped over one shoulder, inky strands spilling silkenly over the front of the loose, white shirt he wore. He’d shed his bloodsoaked uniform, the black tailcoat torn and the vibrant red and gold of his vest turned a dark brown by the carnage. Papa shivered at the memory before clearing his throat. Johannes jumped slightly, breaking from his reverie in studying the philosophies of Hinduism.

Johannes sat up quickly, but Papa held out a hand, trying not to smile at the baggy cargo pants that were a tad too large for for the trained assassin's slender waist.

“Do not worry about such formalities, Johannes. This is your home for now, child.” He said, feeling suddenly at ease for the first time in months. The initiation of his new clergy had only fueled the inferno that his enemies threatened to bring upon him, but his fears were alleviated when he found this creature again in the Northern woods, along with three of his brothers, especially now that he had seen that their madman leader was more than qualified.

“Tomorrow night will be my first Ritual in months, and given the situation, I will need you and the others to be alert.” Papa said grimly, pouring himself a glass of dark red wine. He growled softly. The Puppet Master’s condescending voice played through his head again, the menacing red glow of that condescending gaze. He choose to ignore the remorse burning painfully at the other memories that came before.“That motherfucker always had to have the last word, Lucifer knows what shit he’ll pull to prove a point.”

Papa sat beside Johannes, his green and spectral white eye unhesitantly scanning him up and down. He could see scars on the ivory flesh, so many of them, and they were beautiful. Emeritus tried offering him a glass of wine, but Johannes quickly shook his head, flashing a nervous smile.

“How long has it been since I’ve seen you?” He asked, the business tone of his voice dropping to a gentle whisper.

“Seven years,” Johannes replied thoughtfully, though much of those memories were gone, but the Pope remembered. There was almost a shy innocence about Johannes tonight, and yet there was a deep intelligence and indescribable suffering in his eyes. But most importantly to Papa, even deeper down beneath the kaleidoscope of his twisted mind, Johannes was a killer puppet restrained by gossamer thread…

Papa reached out a pale, clawed hand, gently brushing the hair that always hung in the taller man’s face. Johannes growled, a soft rumble from deep in his throat, and for a brief, moment, Papa saw a glimpse of his own demise.

Johannes turned, brushing Papa’s hand from his face before he leaned forward to kiss him instead. “You shouldn’t…” he whispered. Papa could feel the tremble in his voice, licking his lips as he watched a war raging on behind his blue eyes, “Mr. J is restless tonight…” Johannes continued, a stain in his deep voice. “His particular skills would be better suited for The Puppet Ma–”

Papa felt a large hand in his hair, sliding down to grip the back of his neck. The pounding of his heart was deafening in his ears as he ignored the weak plea to resist, to let the sleeping beast lie, and he kissed him again quickly before he could say that fucking name.

He felt the grip on his arm tighten painfully, felt himself being pushed back into the sofa, long hair ticking the face as Johannes’ long, wicked tongue snaked out to taste the Pope more intimately. The corner of his mouth twitched, tilting upward in a wicked smirk, and Papa gasped – the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth.

Papa Emeritus III was a man who had made a name for himself stoking the fire to take what he wanted; cities, governments, hearts and minds. He wanted to coax the monster out of his cage and. immolate himself in his fury.

Papa smiled with great tenderness at the beautiful man, predatory and wild – tall and lithe, as he slid from the couch to kneel between his legs. He felt Mr J’s teeth brush his thigh, nipping him gently through the fabric of his pants. The reserved, gentle Johannes was gone and he was alone with the Clown bowing before him in a far more intimate setting.

Papa’s hand curled in the mass of dark hair as Mr. J hurriedly undid his pants, his spindly hands reminding the Anti-Pope of a pianist’s, his arousal painfully evident. He could hear the strained growl escape the taller man’s lips, shuddering as he felt tongue and teeth again against swollen flesh, teasing him mercilessly before swallowing him whole.

“Dancing with death…” Emeritus chuckled to himself in a haze of extacy. Mr. J purred around him as Papa’s grip on his inky hair tightened, cursing obscenities under his breath as his hatred of The Puppet Master was temporarily forgotten.

“You are so valuable to me, Johannes…” He breathed, using all the strength he could to speak clearly. Mr. J paused, lifting his head and peering up at Papa curiously, and that was too much. Papa had had many beautiful women and men in his bed, but they were mere conquests, nothing more… Papa knew this man could kill him without a second thought, snap his spine or tear him to ribbons with ease, but now he looked like an angel knelt before him on the floor.

With a snarl, Papa grabbed Johannes by the hand and rose from the sofa, practically yanking him over to the large bed that rested against the adjacent wall. He wasted no time in undressing him, clawed hands roughly exploring and scratching as he attacked the taller man’s mouth with his tongue. Johannes simply offered a coy smile of mock sweetness as Papa shoved him down, his hair a black halo against the bedcovers. Papa lunged and the clown did not resist, curling his long limbs around the Skeleton Pope’s muscular frame.

Words left unspoken, Papa bit down on Johannes’ pale neck, claiming him as he thrust his hips forward. He heard him cry out, a beautiful mixture of a scream of passion and a demon’s war cry. The taste of his blood was sweet like fruit, and Papa threw his head back, vaguely aware of the blood trickling from the fresh scratches on his back as he mercilessly rode his pet into the sheets.

“Is that the best you can do, motherfucker?” Johannes snarled, his hair wild around his handsome face, a crooked, crazed smile on his lips as he bucked his hips forward, urging Papa deeper. His tongue snaked out against the Pope’s cheek, hissing horrible and wonderful things in his ear. Papa smiled, inhaling the scent of coconut from his hair, reveled in the softness of his scarred skin and the delicious nightmare that lay beneath the surface.

He especially loved the thought of his bloody angel eviscerating his enemy before his very eyes.

"That's right, Pope... Fuck me harder!" Johannes cried, but Papa could barely hear him, too lost in his own lust for vengeance and deeper within the electrifying warmth of the creature's lithe body. 

He grabbed the other man by the throat, forcing him back down onto the bed. He was vicious, tearing into him without remorse, eliciting desperate cries of both pain and ecstasy. He came with a savage roar, finding Johannes’ hands again and gripping them tightly. Galaxies danced in his vision, his hair matted with sweat and the smell of blood in his nose. He gazed down at Johannes, his protector and assasin, who looked so completely vulnerable beneath him.

_"You are perfect..."_

He leaned down to kiss him again, tenderly this time, when the heavy double doors of Papa’s chamber flew open with an abrupt crash.

Johannes began to snarl with rage, but Papa held him down and rolled his eyes dramatically. The Ghouls, Fire and Aether burst into the room.

“My Lord, we heard– **GOOD SATAN BELOW!** ” The Fire Ghoul howled, stopping short at the sight of his Master and his new bodyguard. He peered at his feet abruptly, the flames from his fingers extiguishing themselves in a plume of smoke.

“I’m fine, thank you!” Papa sighed as he glanced back to Johannes. Mr. J was gone and the man suddenly looked startled and sheepish, turning a bright red and grabbing for the blankets to cover himself with.

Aether Ghoul, however, didn’t hesitate to address the next order of business. He withdrew the cyclone, the air stilling around his body. “My Lord, Sister Imperator is here and she urgently wishes to speak with you about tomorrow’s Ritual!”

* * * *

_TO BE CONTINUED?????_


End file.
